


soak(ed)

by Ejunkiet



Series: the rapture in the dark [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: AKA the bath tub fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut and Snark, Mason acts like a little shit (but makes up for it), You Have Been Warned, smut with feelings (and a little edging), soft and fluffy feelings, there is very little I can say instead of uh bubbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: Olivia and Mason try out the bathtub in the Warehouse ensuite.--“You’re thinking too much, sweetheart.” His words are light, and she can feel the heat of him against her, the weight of his hand from where he’d been mapping the planes of her back, his touch soft and wandering.“Thought I told you - when we’re together, you only need to think of me.”
Relationships: Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: the rapture in the dark [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039577
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	1. soak

**Author's Note:**

> [click here for some delicious art by @masonsfangs on tumblr!!](https://ejunkiet.tumblr.com/post/641668988226699264/grey-eyes-flicking-back-up-to-hers-mason-lowers)
> 
> For more Mason and Olivia, check out the rest of the stories in this series!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There’s space enough for two.”_
> 
> _There’s no disguising the suggestion in her own tone, and his smile widens, his eyes dark as he looks her over, lingering on places the bubbles haven’t quite managed to cover, tracing her shape through the foam._
> 
> _“You’re quite the temptation, sweetheart.”_

It’s not often that Olivia gets time to herself anymore, between her regular duties and additional activities as human liaison for the Agency. It’s even rarer for her to be able to take a moment to relax like _this._

The bathtub they’ve provided for her in the ensuite at the Warehouse is more than adequate for the job - large and elegantly sculpted, standing alone on clawed feet wrought from iron, designed to look like a lion’s paw. It’s decadent, and overly self-indulgent, and _exactly_ what she needs right now.

Armed with a scrubbie and some of Nate’s expensive bath salts and soaps (likely costing more than her monthly paycheck), she’s filled the tub to the brim with foamy suds, the gentle heat enough to ease the strain from her sore muscles, soothe the tension from her limbs, until she’s almost falling asleep in the water.

It’s a short while later that a familiar voice calls her name from the other room, breaking the hushed quiet that’s fallen across the facility at the fall of dusk, and letting out a gentle sigh, she responds: “In here.” 

She can hear the sound of footsteps in the adjacent room, softening as her visitor removes their shoes, before the door opens with a gentle click, revealing Mason in the doorway, a slow smile breaking across his features as his storm grey eyes settle on her within the tub.

“You look comfortable.” He comments, walking closer until he’s standing at the foot of the basin, and his voice is softer than she expected, devoid of his usual innuendo. Leaning forward, she rests her cheek against the steep side, the porcelain cool against her flushed skin as she looks up at him, a lazy smile curling on her lips. 

“There’s space enough for two.” 

There’s no disguising the suggestion in her own tone, and his smile widens, his eyes dark as he looks her over, lingering on places the bubbles haven’t quite managed to cover, tracing her shape through the foam.

“You’re quite the temptation, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t need further convincing, reaching back to pull the tight, dark material of his shirt over his head before his hands settle on his belt, and she lets her eyes wander as she watches him undress, taking in the long, sleek lines of him, the gentle definition of his chest, the narrow cut of his hips as he shoves his jeans to the floor.

His hands move to his hips, teasing at the band of his underwear before pushing them down to meet the rest of his clothes, revealing the full length of him to her gaze. She drinks him in, tracing the constellations of freckles along his shoulders, the smattering of dark hair across his chest, trailing down past his navel. 

She takes a breath (when had she stopped breathing?), her eyes flickering back up to meet his - to find he’s still watching her, pupils wide and dark, swallowing his irises as he holds her stare.

“Enjoying the show?” His voice is a low purr as he prowls closer, closing the distance between them, and she bites her lip, enjoying the flutter of anticipation as she straightens to meet him, leaning her arms against the lip of the tub.

“If I said I was?”

He braces his arms on the porcelain lip, bracketing her, leaning in until their faces are barely inches apart. His eyes flicker over her, and he’s close enough that she can feel the soft rush of his breath against her cheeks, find the flecks of blue scattered amidst the grey storm of his iris as he meets her gaze once more.

And grins.

In one swift move, he pushes himself forward to land in the tub, water splashing over the porcelain lip as he seats himself fully within it - and soaks her entirely in the process.

Spluttering, she glares at him from beneath the clumped, sodden lengths of her hair as she brushes it furiously back from her face.

“You _bastard_.”

He gives her a shit-eating grin in response, sinking further into the water. “Thanks for sharing, sweetheart.”


	2. soaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Remember to keep your voice down,” He murmurs against her throat, and she can feel the shape of his grin there, as edged and teasing as his words._

“I can’t believe you did that.”

His responding chuckle is low and deep, reverberating pleasantly off the tiled walls around them as he leans back into the frothy suds, resting his arms along the steep side of the tub. 

There’s a slight sheen to his skin from the heat, the dark strands of his hair clinging to his forehead and cheeks as he pushes them back from his face, dark eyes glittering under the light of the candles she’d placed around the room.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

She’s not sure she’s quite done ignoring him yet. “Are you going to behave?”

He chuckles again, reaching out until he can snag her elbow. “Come  _ here.” _

His thumb rubs along her arm, dipping beneath the waterline as he tugs her gently forward, and with a drawn out sigh, she follows, twisting in the water until she can settle back against him. 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her in closer with a low hum, the sound reverberating from deep within his chest. “That’s better.”

She lets out a low huff, a small smile making its way onto her lips despite herself. 

They fall into a comfortable silence, disturbed only by the gentle sound of water as his hands shift under the surface, moving lazily across her skin.

“Tilt your head back for me.” She complies without question, resting her head back against his shoulder as his mouth skates the length of her neck, and there’s that gentle flutter again, at the base of her stomach, as his hands flex against her waist.

His hands slip down her abdomen, teasing at the crease of her thigh and a low sigh escapes her lips, unbidden, as her hands reach out to grab the sides of the tub. 

“Remember to keep your voice down,” He murmurs against her throat, and she can feel the shape of his grin there, as edged and teasing as his words.

_ “Fuck. You.”  _ Each word is carefully enunciated, even as her grip tightens on the rim, her fingers slipping against the ceramic as he finally makes good on his promises, and  _ oh. _

He presses a soft kiss against the underside of her jaw. “Maybe later.”


	3. filthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His grin is sharp and wicked. "You've got a filthy mouth, sweetheart."_
> 
> \--
> 
> this is where we earn the E rating.

Mason is a fucking _tease_.

His hands on her are deft, and between the one that works between her legs and the other on her hips, steadying her, it doesn't take long for him to bring her close to the edge.

He doesn't take her over though, not just yet - leaving her teetering on that line between pleasure and frustration, the heat of his mouth lingering against the hinge of her jaw until she twists her head to meet him.

The kiss is filthy and verging on sinful as she succumbs to the eager press of his mouth - the way he’s tasting her, tongue mimicking the motion of his fingers, and she wants - no _needs_ \- more than this.

 _“Mason,”_ she tries when he pulls away, but the words are gasped, barely audible as he weaves a path down her throat, settling at the curve of her shoulder. He hums an acknowledgement, trailing a line of wet, open mouthed kisses that she _knows_ will leave a mark, as much as she knows that this is exactly what he’s intending. 

(She’ll be wearing turtlenecks for a week, and then the rest of the team will _know,_ much to her chagrin, and everytime he sees it, he’ll give her the same _shit-eating grin_ -)

 **_"Mason,"_ ** She tries again once she’s caught her breath, but the word is breathless and almost lost as she bites down on her lip, hard, to swallow down the sound that wants to escape her as he dips his fingers into her again.

He hushes her as she curses, arching back against his grip, and she can feel the shape of his smile against her skin as his fingers withdraw, settling once more against her center.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

His fingers move against her, working on winding her back up again- and she's tired of this, tired of the _teasing,_ the way she feels as if she’s going to shake right out of her skin

_“Stop fucking around already.”_

His grin is sharp and wicked. "You've got a filthy mouth, sweetheart."

He leans up to nip at the sensitive point behind her ear, soothing the sting with a kiss, before he murmurs, “All you had to do was ask.”


	4. accursed (fin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re thinking too much, sweetheart.” His words are light, and she can feel the heat of him against her, the weight of his hand from where he’d been mapping the planes of her back, his touch soft and wandering._
> 
> _“Thought I told you - when we’re together, you only need to think of me.”_
> 
> \--
> 
>  **Mild book 3 demo spoilers** , but written before the second release. Set between chapters 3 and 4 of book 3.

Later, after she's caught her breath, the sweat on her skin cooling in the open air, she remembers what brought her here in the first place. 

The Bounty.

It’s ridiculous, the thought that her life could be worth _anything_ to these people. These ‘trappers’ are _human_ , like her, the magical properties within her blood completely _useless_ to them, but apparently lucrative nevertheless, and the thought makes her sick - the idea that they could profit from the lives of others so easily.

Like with the kidnapping case. Nothing had been confirmed yet, but it’s easy enough to make the link between the two - and that’s even more collateral damage attached to her name.

It’s another tragedy, another disaster, all within the span of a handful of months, and she’s starting to realise just how much of a curse she has become - to wayhaven, her hometown, and the people that live there.

Her thoughts are loud, too loud - and she doesn’t hear the first couple times Mason says her name, not until he murmurs it right into her ear. _“Olivia.”_

The bubbles are almost gone, the water clouded with what’s left of the salts, and she’s not sure how long she’s been drifting, caught within the spiral of her thoughts.

“You’re thinking too much, sweetheart.” His words are light, and she can feel the heat of him against her, the weight of his hand from where he’d been mapping the planes of her back, his touch soft and wandering. 

(He’d been tracing along the edges of the scar there, she realises, pale and faded against her skin - a memento from an altercation early on in her career, just after she’d finished up her training in the city.)

Leaning away from him, she shifts in his grip, turning in the water until she can face him, meet the winter storm of his gaze, dark and considering in the flickering light. “There’s a lot to think about.”

His arm circles her waist, bringing her in closer until she’s in his lap, his legs folded around them. His other hand raises to cup her cheek, his thumb smoothing along the curve of her jaw, the divot of her chin, brushing against her lower lip. 

“Thought I told you - when we’re together, you only need to think of me.”

His eyes are dark, and at this distance, she can see the complexity of the colours that swirl within their grey depths, shadowed by the dark curl of his lashes. It’s easy to lose herself within them, as he leans forward, the arm around her waist tugging her close against him as he presses his mouth to hers. 

He kisses her then, soft and slow, and despite all the intimacies they've shared tonight, this is the first time they've come together like this, and all the more significant for it. It’s an answer to an unspoken question, addressed with the gentle pressure of his mouth and tongue - a reassurance, and a promise.

She leans into the kiss, chasing the taste of him as his hand slips back to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling within the strands, and it doesn’t take long for everything else to fade away, until there is only this moment and the soft heat of him against her. 

She’s breathless when he pulls away, her arms looped around his neck, her thighs bracketing his hips, and she can’t remember when, exactly, she moved, as his hand curls against her back, dragging down her skin and pulling her in closer.

His mouth drops to the skin of her neck, another temptation, tempered by the gentleness of the touch, navigating a slow and steady path down to the hollow of her throat.

Drawing his head back, he catches her eye. “Want to finish what we started, sweetheart?”

She knows what he wants, can see it in the way he tilts his head, tongue swiping out at his bottom lip - and in this moment, there’s nothing she wants more than the warm surrender of his touch.

Brushing her mouth over his, she maps the curve of his smile, pressing the words into his lips. 

"Take me to bed."

In a fluid rush of movement, he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for further chapters in this series - I've closed off the chapter count for now, but I have a few small additions to this in the works (as well as a sequel...)

**Author's Note:**

> I have very little excuse for this. uh, bubbles. Comments and kudos greatly appreciated, find me on tumblr!


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